


Obscene Thoughts Pt. 3

by tac_winchester



Series: Telepath Reader Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage, Dom Crowley, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Crowley, Spanking, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:30:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4566405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tac_winchester/pseuds/tac_winchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: hey darling , so I was wondering if you could write a third part of that telepathic/mind reading reader x crowley ? I loved the first to parts ❤️ maybe it could just continue with Dean being really mad after finding out and just shouting at the reader, so the reader angrily leaves the bunker and gets drunk in a bar and he’s just flirting with someone when crowley finds him and he’s like really jealous and then smut</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obscene Thoughts Pt. 3

The drumming of my fingertips on the railing was the only thing keeping me calm. I knew how I must’ve looked with my hair askew and my cheeks flushed. A just-fucked whore who’d just been out with their second biggest enemy in this world. I hadn’t even bothered to put my shirt on the right way, and with Sherlock one and two, they knew that.

“Where did you go with Crowley?” Sam demanded.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. The transition between the park bench and the hotel room hadn’t been all that visual. Why drive when you can teleport? I squinted in the bright light of the bunker, trying to focus on if I’d seen any landmarks. I could’ve been in Buckingham Palace for all I knew.

Dean stepped forward, and I noticed his messy, just-got-out-of-bed hair. He wore flannel pajama bottoms and a white tee, fresh out of bed. “Wherever you’ve been, you look like you’ve taken a joy ride through a brothel,” he grumbled, reaching for my bicep.

I jerked back, stumbling. “A joy ride through a brothel would mean I’ve been through many people. I’m not a whore,” I scoffed. Sam bitch-faced me before his nose scrunched up.

“You reek of-”

“Sulfur,” Dean breathed. My stomach dropped and my mouth gaped open like a fish on land. I turned and bounded up the stairs, the ache between my legs burning like hell. One of the brothers cursed behind me as I swung open the bunker door. Exhaustion chased me out the door, begging me to turn around and go to bed. I jogged on the dirt path, hearing my name being called out behind me. God damn Winchesters.

______________________________________________________________

Yellow squares of light were brought to my attention after running for a mile. I rubbed my eyes and looked at the sign on the window. I pushed open the door to find music roaring from a jukebox and glasses clinking together. Someone in a corner sang terribly on stage while another praised them for being so “great”. I walked to the bar and took a stool, wincing at the burn between my legs. The male bartender slid over to me, asking what I’d like to drink.

“I’ll have a Bud Light,” I said. He nodded, eyes crinkling at the corners before he bent down to grab a bottle. He returned to me and twisted off the top, allowing me to pause for a second to read his nametag. “Thanks, Mark,” I winked. My phone buzzed against my thigh.

I sipped my beer and glanced around. Presence tickled the side of my neck and I turned to see Mark again. “You don’t look like you do this often,” he said. My eyebrows furrowed as the alcohol began to run its course.

“Oh yeah, then what do I do?” I pushed.

“You look like you should be home in a boyfriend’s arms,” Mark replied.

I rose my eyebrows and laughed into the lip of my beer before taking a gulp. “I don’t have a boyfriend, hotshot. Just a little demon on my shoulders,” I joked, knowing he wouldn’t find it as funny as I did. He guffawed, throwing his head back, making me wonder if he’d snuck a few drinks himself. Standing behind a bar and serving to low-lifes all day would drive me to drink, too.

“C’mon, you’ve got to have a boyfriend. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I’m this lucky,” Mark insisted. As if he had a chance.

The stool beside me creaked with weight being dropped onto it. “I’m the little demon on this lad’s shoulder. Now, if you’d excuse us,” Crowley’s raspy voice came from my right. The pressure of his hand on my thigh made my face become red with a non-drug-induced rush. I turned my head to see a fuming king. Crowley moved his hand up to take my wrist, and he had the decency to drag me out of the bar instead of teleporting right then and there.

We ended up in a different hotel room, but with more anger and vigor in our movements. Crowley snapped his fingers, and all of my clothes flew off. “Fuck, why didn’t you do that earlier?” I asked.

“Because I didn’t have to do this,” Crowley said, sitting at the foot of the bed. He patted his lap and my eyes widened. “Come.” I slinked over like a dog with its tail between its legs. “Kneel, pet.” My knees dropped to the floor immediately. I bit back a wince at the friction of my kneecaps on the carpet. Crowley’s hand guided me to bend over his clothed knees. The expensive fabric bit into the sensitive skin of my chest. “You will be allowed no touching this session,” he said. A jingling of metal warned me, and steel cuffs dug into my wrists. “Now, let’s begin. I want you to count every slash. Shall we say, ten? Or, bump it up to twenty for every lingering gaze.” He paused. “I guess you really don’t have a say.”

The slicing of the hair was all that prepared me for the first blow. “One!” I exclaimed, hanging my head. The bridge of my nose dug into the stiff fabric of Crowley’s slacks, but _god_ , I’d be lying if I said my cock wasn’t beginning to drip with precome. Distraction escaped me as the next hit came crashing down. “Two!” I breathed. My labored breathing and the whacks on my ass made a rhythm between us, counted out between my lips. The arousal bled through me, and I barely realized it was over so soon.

“Get up, pet,” Crowley grumbled. I planted my feet on the ground and leaned on the bed post for balance, getting up as fast as I could. The skin on my ass stretched and pulled at the welts forming there. “You should know who you’re with, pet. I didn’t pen you for a cheap slut,” Crowley growled into my ear. He dragged me by my chains to the bed and laid me down, chest first. My legs, still on the side of the bed, were kicked apart as I heard the snick of a cap. The lube bottle emitted a wet, oozing sound, and the lubricant dripped onto my exposed hole. I sighed at the sensation of the cool liquid only to have a gag in my mouth with the snap of Crowley’s fingers.

I turned my head, scowling at the demon.  _You may bind my lips, but my mind will forever be open_ , I sent to him telepathically. The sudden intrusion startled him a bit before his smirk was once again evident. He retaliated by shoving two fingers into my entrance, making me writhe forward with pleasure. Drool dripped and soaked parts of the gag. Crowley’s fingers curled and twisted with expertise. Something told me his technique went way back to the fifteenth and sixteenth century.  _I’m ready, god dammit. Show me I’m yours_ , I thought to him.

My wish commanded Crowley to thrust into me. Loose from earlier, this time around barely burned at all. The pleasure had me humping back onto his cock, eggin him on. Crowley gripped my handcuff chains and began to slam into me. I watched the bed posts rock with us, tapping the nightstand at the other end. I buried my face into the rich duvet, and Crowley’s hand found my hair and pulled my head back up. “Do you wish to be my pet forever?” Crowley growled.

_Yes_ , I said.

The feeling of him coming inside of me was better the second time around. 

**Author's Note:**

> tac-winchester.tumblr.com


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